


Brother's Best Friend

by itsamouse



Category: Dreamwastaken, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Porn With Plot, Smut, au in which dream is not a youtuber, english major!dream, except they're not really enemies they just don't like each other that much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamouse/pseuds/itsamouse
Summary: He's best friends with your brother. Need I say more?
Relationships: Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)/You, Clay | Dream/Reader
Comments: 60
Kudos: 433





	1. I Have a Plan

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! i'm so excited for story. it's an au where dream is not a youtuber, he's a college student because he said in a stream recently that he would have been an english major if he had gone to college, so i had to indulge. it will contain smut so please don't read unless you're 18+!!
> 
> also if u end up enjoying this story u should check out my tumblr!! it’s called @itsamxuse and i post drabbles/headcanons/blurbs about dream on there, as well as updates about this fic :)

At long last the house is quiet.

Mom is at work. Noah, my brother, is off supposedly running errands, which leaves me with a tub of Ben and Jerry's and season three of _Avatar: the Last Airbender_.

Truth be told it's not exactly rare for me to have the house to myself, but whenever I do I _have_ to take advantage and relish it. Mostly that means listening to my music out loud rather than through earphones and singing badly along with it. Riveting, I know.

Only five minutes into the episode, I'm interrupted by a knock at the front door. I physically growl in frustration, prepared to berate whoever's there. Although it might just be Noah having forgotten something. I'm still gonna yell at him.

When I open the door, I'm surprised by who I find standing there. It's Clay, my brother's best friend, who owns the award for being the biggest asshole. I don't think I'll ever get over the relentless torture he and Noah put me through while we were kids. He's also way too cocky, which wouldn't be as bad if he wasn't 6'3, admittedly conventionally attractive, and rich. The world is literally made for people like him. The least he could do is be a little bit humble.

I cross my arms over my chest almost instinctively, becoming suddenly conscious of my skimpy pyjama shorts and Spongebob t-shirt.

"Noah's not here," I say, blunt. I need this conversation to go as quickly as possible. I have important things to be doing.

"Actually I'm not here for him." It's like his face is permanently stuck in a dumb arrogant grin that makes me want to punch him. If he's not smirking, he's rolling his eyes or frowning patronisingly. It makes me boil with rage.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Then what do you want?" I struggle to think of any other reason why he might be here.

"I need your help with something," he says, looking hopeful.

I can't help the laugh that escapes me upon hearing those words. However something in his tone and his expression lacks the indication that he's kidding. "Wait, are you being serious?"

He shrugs. "Why? What's wrong with needing your help?"

I open my mouth to name off _several_ reasons why, but of course he cuts me off before I get the chance to even say a word.

"Can you just let me in so I can explain my plan to you?"

I hum, narrowing my eyes in thought. He seems like the type of man who hates being told what to do. "Say please."

He frowns momentarily before rolling his eyes and grumbling out a "please," and then an "it's urgent."

I pause once more, considering my options. The most plausible one is that this is some kind of elaborate prank. What is the prank though? Is it possible that he genuinely needs my help? If so, with what? I can't think of a single reason why he needs _my_ help specifically. He's a popular guy, he can get anyone's help if he wanted it.

While I could just say no and he probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it, curiosity gets the best of me and I find myself stepping to the side to let him in. I also don't want to be _too_ petty otherwise I'd just be worse than him.

"Fine. But don't waste my time," I warn.

He follows me to the kitchen where I only go because I want a snack. He settles into a seat at the small island in the centre of the room while I rummage through the pantry in search of something light that will fulfil me.

"So, as you know, Noah's birthday is coming up, and since he's turning twenty one I decided I wanna go all out for him," Clay explains. "Which is why I'm throwing him a surprise party this weekend. I told him to come over on Saturday night and made him think we're just hanging out."

"You realise he hates making his birthday a big deal, right?" It's true. Every year the most he does to celebrate is invite over some friends, order a little more food than usual, and watch a movie. To go from that to a huge event, a surprise at that, is a big leap.

"I know, but I'm gonna change his mind. I want to make this year good," he says, determined.

I stuff two Oreos into my mouth, nodding at his idea. "Okay, then. So what the hell do you need me for?" I ask once I'm done chewing.

"I don't know what to get him as a gift. I mean, I did get him something, but I want to get him a few other things too."

I pause, knitting my eyebrows together. "Aren't you supposed to be his best friend? It can't be that hard to get him something."

"I told you, I wanna go all out and get him a bunch of stuff. You're his sister, so you should know what he wants."

"And you're his best friend. Just get it yourself, dude." It still doesn't make sense why he so desperately needs my help. Then again, I think back to Noah's last birthday when all Clay got him was a $250 iTunes gift card. It's obviously not a terrible gift per se, but Noah's a sentimental person. He appreciates gifts that are personal, like when I bought him a rare framed poster of _The Matrix_ , his favourite movie. He's easy to buy for anyways. He's a film major and he makes that his entire personality. It's hard to go wrong.

"Please," he says, drawing out the word. "I suck at gifts. Don't do it for me, do it for Noah."

"Wow, using my own brother against me," I tease. To be honest I'd rather eat dirt than have to spend a minute with with Clay, but I would do a lot of things for my brother to be happy. I sigh, in disbelief of what I'm about to say. "Fine. I'll help you."

"Yes," he cheers, features lighting up with a triumphant smile. "Let's go then."

"What- right now?" I question, pouting. I had the entire rest of my day planned to watch Avatar.

"Yes, right now. I have work every day until Friday and I'll probably be getting stuff for the party then, which you'll also be helping with, by the way."

"Okay, I didn't agree to that," I argue, though knowing this man, I'm not gonna get out of it. He's the textbook definition of a Leo, meaning he'll get his way no matter what.

"It was tacit," he smirks.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. You have to give me all the credit then. I'm gonna go change. Don't... do anything."

He throws his arms up in surrender.

Once I've put on some denim shorts and a plain cropped t-shirt, I grab my phone, keys, and wallet and make my way back downstairs, letting Clay know I'm ready.

I follow him out to his fancy ass Range Rover, scoffing as I climb inside the car and settle in on the leather seat.

"What?" he questions.

"Rich boy," I mumble under my breath. Clay's parents work in business or something like that, so it's no surprise they're loaded.

"What'd you say?"

"I called you a rich boy," I say, a little louder this time with a mischievous grin on my face.

It bothers me when all he does is chuckle.

"Where are we even going?" I ask. It just hit me that he could be driving out to the middle of nowhere and I wouldn't have a clue.

"Downtown," he says. "I bought him a record player so I need to get vinyls that he can play. That's where you come in."

"A record player, damn." Those things are expensive, so I shouldn't be surprised. "Anyways, what, you don't know your best friend's taste in music? I know mine."

"I do, vaguely, but I don't think I know his _real_ music taste."

I stare at him, lost. He's concentrated on driving though, eyebrows furrowed slightly and lips pouting just the smallest amount.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

Clay gives an exasperated sigh. "Who does he listen to the most? Or when he's going through something?"

"Oh, easy. Arctic Monkeys, Radiohead, The Cure, Muse, stuff like that."

"Perfect. We'll get all of those. Is there anything else he's mentioned wanting?"

"Uh," I say, pausing to think back to some of our conversations. "He's wanted Golf Le Fleurs for the longest time."

"Awesome. This is great," he says. "See? I've been trying to come up with something for weeks and as soon as I have you to assist me, everything's smooth sailing."

"I think maybe you just suck," I say, smiling innocently.

"Oh, come on."

God, I want to humble him so bad.

Minutes later, Clay finds a parking spot and we make our way to a record store. It's one of those old shops like the ones in the movies where alt kids come to hang out. We don't spend too long since we know what we're looking for.

"Where to next?" he asks after we exit the store.

"We should check out Urban Outfitters. They've got cute stuff," I say.

"This isn't a shopping spree. We're getting gifts for Noah," he reminds me with a humorous tone.

"Urban Outfitters has good gifts," I tell him.

"Whatever you say."

Once we get there, an idea pops into my head immediately. Noah and Clay have almost the exact same taste in style: vintage-style hoodies or crewnecks and Converse. I take Clay over to the wall that's covered in different types of hoodies.

"You know he loves his hoodies," I say.

"That I do know," he replies, observing each sweatshirt. After a moment, his eyes fall on one with a Rugrats logo on it as well as a purple tie dye one. He grabs them both and smiles, satisfied.

We browse through the rest of the store for a while. Clay suggests socks, but I tell him Noah has plenty already. I consider an expensive water bottle, but when I think about it for a moment I decide Jake would probably hate the concept of spending fifty dollars on a water bottle.

I'm sifting through some accessories when my eyes land on a dress that draws me towards it immediately. It's perfect– it's a black floral milkmaid dress with a lace trim. I rummage through quickly to find my size and turn to find Clay. He's a few feet away looking at some books.

"Clay," I call. He looks at me immediately. "I'm going to try this on."

He nods and I take off towards the fitting rooms.

The dress sits on me like it was sewn for my body. It hugs my waist and shows off the right amount of cleavage to where it's not scandalous. Everything about it is perfect.

I poke my head out of the room to find Clay standing there on his phone, then step out.

"What do you think?" I ask, facing the mirror again, examining every detail.

"I..." he says. I whip my head towards him to see his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. Is he okay?

He clears his throat. "I think you look really nice."

I gasp dramatically. "Clay being _nice_ to me? What timeline is this?"

He ignores my teasing. "You should wear it to the party."

"Ooh, you might have a point," I admit, fumbling with the tag attached to the hem of the dress. My heart sinks when I see the price. "Too bad it's two hundred dollars."

"That sucks," Clay says. Surprisingly there's no mocking tone in his voice.

"It's fine," I say, trying to hide any heartbreak and disappointment. "I didn't need it anyway."

Afterwards we pick out shot glasses with dumb alcohol puns on them as well as a book about Grammy winning films, then head to a Converse store to get the sneakers.

At last we have all of Noah's gifts. Clay and I are back in his car, sighing with relief.

"I'd say that was pretty successful," he says, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel.

"Yeah, thanks to me," I say nonchalantly, unlocking my phone to text my two best friends back.

"Yeah, yeah." I don't have to look at him to know he's probably got some smug look on his face. "We should exchange numbers, by the way. So I can text you party stuff and whatnot."

"I have a boyfriend," I joke.

"Shut– you know that's not what I mean," he laughs. It better not be what he means.

"Fine. What's your number?"

He calls it out and I add him to my contacts, shooting him a text so he can save mine when he's not driving.

"There," I say. I text Noah next to ask where he is and pretty quickly he replies telling me he's at Walmart. That's good. It means I don't have to sneak back into my house and it won't raise suspicion when Clay is giving me a ride home.

Once we arrive back at my house, I have to stop myself from flinging myself out of the car so I don't have to spend another second with him.

"I'll see you again on Friday, right?" he asks.

"Ew, don't say it like that," I say, scrunching my face up in disgust. "It sounds like we're going on a date."

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "We're going to Walmart to get snacks. You thought of it that way. It's not my fault."

I scoff. "You're dumb. Bye, Clay."

He just laughs again as I climb out of the car and shut the door behind me.

At least I survived that.

Friday rolls around. Unfortunately my manifesting that something comes up and causes Clay to cancel the party doesn't work. Maybe I did it wrong.

I'm putting on my everyday makeup while on Facetime with Reggie and Maya, my best friends. Maya's eating breakfast despite it being almost 2 pm.

"So, any plans for the weekend?" Reggie asks me. He's one of those people that constantly keeps tabs on everyone and always knows what's happening, so asking us what we're doing has become one of his catchphrases.

"Ugh. Noah's best friend forced me to throw Noah a surprise party and he's making me stay," I explain. I'm not one of those people who hates parties. They can be fun– when the right people are there. But this one will be filled with Clay and Noah's college friends. I can already picture myself sitting alone in a corner on my phone with Clay's cat. I start to think of an excuse I could use to get out of going.

"Sounds fun," Maya says, her mouth filled with cereal. I can never tell if she's being sarcastic or not. This is another one of those cases.

"That's disgusting," Reggie comments. "Anyways, girl, why aren't you excited? Go have fun."

"I'm not gonna know anybody there. It's gonna be so boring. Clay's a dick and Noah's gonna be busy being the birthday boy. What am I gonna do?" I whine. It's what I do best. Complain. "Can you guys come?"

"Totally would, but Mason and I are having dinner for our three months," Reggie explains, beaming at the mention of his boyfriend. I don't blame him. They're adorable. It makes me envious.

"I'm working. Sorry, sis," Maya says, frowning. I should have seen it coming. Maya's literally always working. At least she's getting coin.

"You don't need us! You can go full Euphoria and you can talk to some college guys," Reggie suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

While he has a point, the idea doesn't excite me as much as it should. Just the thought of going through the talking stage with someone tires me out. At least I can look forward to doing super over the top Maddy Perez-inspired eyeshadow and wearing a cute outfit.

A few minutes later I get a text from Clay saying he's outside and I roll my eyes.

"I gotta go," I say. "Let's hope I don't stab someone."

"Bye, my dear," Reggie chirps.

"Bye," Maya says. "Don't get arrested."

"No promises," I say, then hang up. I grab my things before making my way out to Clay's car with a sickly feeling of dread.

"Hello," he greets me along with a friendly smile. The audacity he has to treat me like I'm just one of his friends.

"Hi," is all I say.

For the entire drive, I listen to the music that comes from the radio and scroll aimlessly through the apps on my phone. I think Clay takes the hint because he minds his business, drumming his fingers along with the music and humming quietly until we reach Walmart. I stay a few steps behind him as we head inside.

"So, we basically need every snack that they sell here," he starts, grabbing a shopping cart.

"Why? How many people are gonna be there?" I ask. Noah's popular, but he doesn't know that many people.

"Probably about a hundred. More, actually, since I told people they can bring whoever they want."

"A hu- oh my God," I mumble, both in shock at the number and also apprehension at the thought of being surrounded by so many drunk and high strangers. "Great. Well, we better get started then."

So we do. We fill the cart with cookies, chips, chocolate, candy, and anything sugary that we can find. Clay also grabs some packs of beer and a bottle of vodka and turns to me.

"Any alcohol preferences?"

"I'm good," I say.

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yes." I don't want him to buy me alcohol because then he'll think he's done me a favour and that'll mean that I owe him, which I can't have.

While Clay looks for chasers in the soda section, I trudge behind him on my phone, becoming increasingly impatient. It's been over an hour. How long does it take to get some snacks?

"Hey, important question. Coke or Dr. Pepper?" he asks me.

I glance up from my phone to give him an irritated look. "Neither."

He pauses, staring at me quizzically. "Why do you have such a problem with me?"

My phone nearly drops from my hands and I find myself laughing for a moment. Then my face turns serious and I glare at him with the most unimpressed expression I can muster. For a second I even question whether I heard him correctly.

"I really thought you were intelligent, but I think you might be the dumbest person in the entire world," I say plainly.

His face only becomes more puzzled and I genuinely wonder how someone could have that little self-awareness.

"Are you still mad about the worm thing?" he asks and I lose it.

"Yes, I'm still mad about the worm thing," I exclaim. My face begins to heat up with anger and my hands curl up into balls and I think there might be steam coming out of my nostrils. "Not to mention the frog thing, the milk balloon thing, the egg thing, the tying me to a fence thing, the ruining my homework thing. I could go on. You and Noah made my life a living hell, Clay. I still remember all the names you called me and the things you told all the other kids about me so that they wouldn't talk to me. You're so lucky I grew thick skin because of it, because some of that shit hurt. Some of it still does sometimes."

Clay's emerald eyes become dull with genuine guilt as he takes in each word I say. Good. I hope he feels bad.

"How come you forgave Noah?" he asks, quiet.

"Because I had to. When my dad left, I realised he and my mom were all I had left." My eyes sting with tears and I begin to panic. Shit. I can't cry in the middle of Walmart.

"Well, I'm really sorry. And I mean it. I didn't realise how badly I hurt you. I just thought since you were so close with Noah that you'd gotten over it."

"No. I haven't. And sorry doesn't fix everything, Clay. You're gonna have to do a little more grovelling than that. Then I'll consider forgiving you."

"I know. I'm not expecting you to forgive me, but I'll do anything it takes."

I stare at him for a moment, contemplating. Right now, all I want is to go home. "I just wanna get this over with."

"We have everything anyways," he says, still quiet.

It honestly feels good to have let all of that out. Of course I'd said it all to Noah, but it's different this time. Now Clay knows why I despise him. To be honest I wasn't expecting him to be so remorseful. I thought he'd just laugh in my face, but... he seems genuinely sorry.

Whatever. He's still a dick.

Clay takes me home. When we're parked outside my house, he turns to me without making eye contact.

"You don't have to come to the party tomorrow," he says. "I appreciate everything you've done already."

I should be jumping for joy. I should be thanking the universe. This is exactly what I wanted, but for some reason it doesn't feel right to just... bail.

"No, I'll be there," I say, sighing with surrender. "It's for Noah, remember?"


	2. What Euphoria Episode is This?

What's something that feels like a crime, but isn't? Lying to someone on their birthday. Even if it's not malicious, even if it'll pay off and it's in Noah's favour, I'm this close to simply blurting out the surprise. Luckily I have just enough self-control to where I'm able to tell him I'm going to Maya's house for a game night. I tell him that my duffle bag that's filled with makeup, a curling wand, and an entire outfit just has board games in it. He doesn't question it. I'm too good a liar.

Clay lives in a neighbourhood filled with glass houses and football field-sized front yards. In an area where the norm is Porsches and Teslas, I've never felt more out of place as I drive along in my Toyota. It's not even in bad shape. It's just the comparison that makes me incredibly conscious of my car.

Eventually I manage to find Clay's address and jump out of my car as a strange feeling of nervousness settles in my chest. It feels forbidden to be here, at least without Noah.

I take a deep breath to brace myself and begin the long journey to Clay's front door, contemplating how this whole thing will go. I didn't even think about his parents. What happens if one of them opens the door? I guess they'll know who Noah is, so it can't be that bad... right?

I'm about to find out, because I press the doorbell and prepare to wait a while, probably, considering how big the house is. I make it to fourteen seconds before the door swings open with a beaming Clay on the other side.

"Hello," he chirps, beckoning me inside. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," I tell him plainly. It's been about ten seconds and I'm already annoyed by him.

My mouth drops before I even realise as I enter. The house is filled with huge windows and marble floors so spotless you could notice a patch of dirt from space. Noah wasn't lying when he said he feels like a celebrity whenever he goes to Clay's. I bet one speck of dust in here is worth more than my entire being.

Clay briefly shows me around the main parts of his house where he plans to decorate, each room leaving me more speechless than the last. Each of his several bathrooms are bigger than my entire bedroom and it makes me rethink my whole life. He also has an Olympic-sized swimming pool in his backyard. No big deal.

I can't believe people just... live like this. This is their everyday. It seems fake. Clay ends the tour with his kitchen which is no less shiny and just as impressive as the rest of the house.

I can't help the gasp I let out when a familiar cat wanders in and hops up gracefully onto the island. She's even more beautiful in real life than the pictures Noah has shown me.

"Hi, sweet girl," I coo, reaching over to stroke her gently. She purrs against my hand and I melt, grinning with pride. We're best friends already. "Just know I'm here for only you."

"Here's the cake I had made for him," Clay starts, placing a surprisingly simple cake in front of me. It's baby blue, covered in icing swirls, and topped with a " _Happy Birthday Noah!_ ". There's honestly... nothing wrong with it. I wouldn't have done anything differently. "It's chocolate. I know he likes that."

"Chocolate's his favourite," I confirm with a surprised tone. "I think he'll love it."

"You do?" he asks, seemingly surprised too.

I nod, staring at the cake. "He likes minimalistic things. He'll like it. You did well."

"You sound shocked," he says, tucking the cake back in his double-door fridge.

"I wasn't expecting any of this from you, to be honest," I admit. It's not that Clay's a bad friend. In fact he and Noah are practically brothers. It honestly makes me envious sometimes.

"Why not?" he asks, lifting a brow.

I turn my attention back to Patches. "You're not exactly the most thoughtful. I mean, you didn't even know your best friend's music taste. Come on, you can just look at his Spotify activity."

"Listen," he says, rolling his eyes. A smirk threatens to break out on his face. Then he sighs, expression turning straight again. "I realise I haven't been doing as much for him as I could, so that's why I'm taking the opportunity and going all out now."

"Better late than never, I guess," I mumble. Obviously he still hears me.

"God, you are just so... audacious." He narrows his eyes at me, amused.

"Ugh. We get it, you're an English major. ' _Ooh, I'm Clay, and I know words like audacious_ '," I mock. It's all lighthearted, but I hope it'll take him down a notch. Of course with Clay I should know better. He just stares at me, smug, practically asking me to sock him across his perfectly symmetrical face. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Sure," he chuckles. "So, we only really need to put up balloons and banners and set out the snacks and drinks and whatnot. I told people to show up at around seven so that they have enough time until Noah gets here around eight, so we have about three hours to get everything done. I also need some time to get ready and I'm assuming you do too? Unless you're planning on staying in your sweatpants, which is totally cool too."

I give him an unamused look. "Yes, I'll need time to get ready, thank you very much. Can we just do this already?"

"Sure thing. Be right back," he says, disappearing from the kitchen, leaving the cat and I.

I scoff, scratching Patches' back softly. "Men, am I right?"

Clay returns after a minute, holding several plastic packages. He throws one towards me and I catch it to find that they're balloons.

"Start blowing these up," he says, tearing open his packet.

We spend about thirty minutes blowing balloons until our lungs are deflated, then move onto hanging them from walls and ceilings all over the house.

"Hey, where are your parents, by the way?" I ask, suddenly curious, handing him a balloon while he stands on a step ladder. If he's having over a hundred college students over then I feel terrible for his mom and dad.

"Somewhere in Europe," he tells me, reaching up to fasten to balloon to the ceiling.

"Oh. So you're completely alone?"

"Mhm." There's surprisingly nothing bitter in his tone, there's just acceptance. It's not a big deal to him.

I hate that I feel bad for him, but he's all by himself in this giant, empty house. No wonder he spends so much time with Noah. He doesn't have anyone else.

After we're done with the balloons, we tape up some birthday banners, some bunting, even some disco lights and a disco ball, and then we're finished decorating.

Back in the kitchen, we fill bowls with food and leave stacks of solo cups as well as chasers on the island. We throw pool noodles and inflatable animals into the pool and place another stack of solo cups on the ping pong table for cup pong. By then there's about an hour and a half until people are supposed to start arriving, and for a second I panic.

"Shit, I need to start getting ready," I utter, checking my phone for notifications. There's nothing from Noah, which is all that matters.

"You can set up camp in one of the bathrooms," Clay offers, so I do just that.

I find one of the giant bathrooms and begin my alter ego transformation, not forgetting to turn on my _hot girl shit_ playlist to get me in the mood for the party. I curl my hair, cover my eyelids with glitter and rhinestones, and change into a satin crop top and a black denim skirt. There's a knock on the door just as I finish putting on a dainty gold choker.

"Are you fully clothed?" Clay's voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Yes," I tell him, staring at the mirror and making sure everything is right. A glance at my phone tells me it's 7:45 on the dot. My timing is impeccable.

Clay enters, looking curious. When his eyes land on me, his expression changes to something I can't quite decipher and it concerns me that I can't. It's the same expression he made when I tried on the dress. His features are soft as he stares at me and for some reason I feel small, scrutinised.

"You should have worded your question better, weirdo," I say in hopes that joking with him will make the feeling go away. It does, but only a little bit.

"Oh, uh, my bad. You look really nice," he says. He straightens his back, running a hand through his dirty blonde locks. It's then that I can take in his outfit and my breath hitches in my throat. He's wearing a striped rayon shirt with the top half unbuttoned, exposing the smooth skin of his chest and his collarbones, paired with some black jeans and a thin silver chain around his neck.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but he looks hot. I won't even lie. That doesn't mean I don't still think he's a jerk though.

He stares at my face with concentration as if taking in every detail. It makes my cheeks burn, so I glance down at my phone in an effort to hide.

"Can you do that to my eyes? Make them all sparkly?"

My head whips up all of a sudden. Clay's smiling gently.

"Really?" I ask. Clay's not a "no homo" type of guy, far from it, but I would never have expected for him to ask me to put makeup on him.

"Yeah. Not as much as yours obviously, but just like subtle, you know?"

I nod. "I think I know what you mean," I say while rummaging through my makeup for a brush and silver glitter. "Sit on the counter."

He does as I say and leans on the surface next to the sink. Even while sitting he still practically towers over me. It's ridiculous.

Hesitantly, I rest my hand on his cheek to hold his head steady and use my other hand to gently swipe the makeup over his eyelids, keeping it close to his lashes, as well as dusting a small amount onto his sharp cheekbones. I'm too focused on painting his skin to notice that we're just inches apart, otherwise I'd probably freak out.

"Open your eyes," I tell him, admiring my work. He looks even prettier than before, if that's possible. I know it's only a little bit of sparkles, not heels or a skirt, but God there's something about boys who are comfortable enough in themselves to put some powder on their eyes.

My eyes accidentally catch his gaze and finally I become aware of how close we are. I withdraw my hand from his face immediately and take a step back, clearing my throat and glancing around the room.

He turns to the mirror and leans in towards it, corners of his lips curling upwards as he observes my work.

"You're really good at makeup, you know," he tells me, eyes locked on his face. He turns his head side to side so the light catches the highlighter on his cheeks. It looks divine.

My heart soars at his praise, but I can't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "I am."

He huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head. He begins to move past me and towards the door, leaving a trail of a citrusy cologne that nearly makes me follow him. "Well, thank you. I'll let you do your thing. DJ should be here any minute."

"Wait. You got a _DJ_?" I literally shouldn't be surprised, but he just keeps revealing more and more of his plans that keep getting more and more ridiculous. What's next, a mariachi band? He wouldn't... would he?

"No, it's just our homie Ryan, but he's going all pro. Apparently he spent twenty four straight hours working on a playlist."

I raise my eyebrows. "Damn. That's dedication."

"I know, right? Anyway, just come down whenever you're ready. I'm gonna go play host," he explains, right as the doorbell chimes. "Perfect timing."

I give him a small smile before he vanishes and leaves me to myself, giving me time to recover. Clay's always been attractive. That's just a fact, not my opinion. But tonight... Something about him tonight hits different. It doesn't matter though. There'll be guys that look just as good as him at the party, if not better. Hopefully they won't be giant bullies, but that's not that hard to accomplish.

Over the next hour or so I flick through my phone as the noise level downstairs rises with each guest that arrives. Music pounds through the floor and the walls because obviously Clay has surround sound in his entire house. My nerves set in at the realisation that Noah's not even here yet. The party hasn't even officially started and yet there are people already screaming and singing their hearts out. I'd bet money that some are already way past drunk.

My phone chimes with a text. It's Clay.

**clay**

_noah's on his way_

_come down_

_i'm in the kitchen :)_

I reply with a simple thumbs up.

Breathing out a deep sigh, I turn to the mirror and fluff up my hair. It'll all be fine. No one knows who I am anyway, other than maybe the fact that I'm Noah's little sister. It's all about Noah tonight, too. No one will be paying attention to me.

After one last glance over myself to confirm I look good as fuck, I'm ready to face the party.


	3. Heads Will Roll

To my delight, no one really pays attention to me as I elbow my way through the crowds. Everyone's too busy socialising, too focused on one another to notice some stranger. I do catch some guy checking me out from the corner of my eye, but I'm too set on trying to get to the kitchen to pay attention to him. I was right about most people being drunk already – limbs thwack against me, belonging to intoxicated guests that have lost control over their movement.

I reach the kitchen eventually after some shoving and find Clay with a megaphone in his hand, a sight which makes me stifle a laugh in disbelief.

"Where did you get a fucking megaphone?" I ask him. I'm still wondering when he's revealing the mariachi band. Or maybe a magician. Or a stripper.

He shrugs, laughing too with amusement. "Someone just brought it. It's good for this though," he tells me and makes a gesture at his throat to the DJ, who switches the music off. Clay raises the megaphone to his mouth and turns to the crowd. "Alright, everyone listen up. The birthday boy is gonna be here any minute, so I need everyone to shut the fuck up. Ryan is gonna turn off all the lights and when I yell 'now' he's gonna turn them all back on and you guys can... say 'surprise' or whatever."

There are nods from the people surrounding us as Clay lowers the megaphone and darkness fills the entire house.

Clay steps towards me, beckoning me to follow him towards his foyer. "When Noah gets here I'm literally just gonna say hey to him, let him in and then say the signal. Got it?"

I nod affirmatively as we pass by groups of college kids who are struggling to stay quiet due to their own giddiness. We reach the front of his house where there are no more party guests and Clay halts.

"You can stay here so he doesn't see you immediately, but you'll still get to greet him first," he says, barely looking at me as he speaks. His eyes are almost frantic. I figure the panic of him wanting everything to go smoothly after trying so hard to set it all up is setting in and I sort of want to tell him to just breathe, but I don't care enough to do that.

"Sounds good."

Clay pulls out his phone with haste, almost letting it slip out of his hands. He stares at it for a moment and holds up the megaphone once again.

"Alright, Noah's here. Everyone. Stay. Quiet," he urges. The demand in his voice makes me jump.

I lean against a wall as Clay shoots me a brief nervous look. It vanishes just as quick as it appears and then he's back to his confident self, striding toward his front door. The doorbell rings and the entire house falls silent save for a few hushed whispers and the odd giggle.

"Hey, man," Clay greets as he opens the door, pulling my brother into a tight hug. A second later he turns and yells, "now!"

Lights flood the house again as a chorus of " _happy birthday_ ", " _surprise_ ", and incoherent hollering arises. Noah's face is priceless – his jaw drops to the floor as he tries to process the scene before him. I take this as my chance and sprint towards him to tackle him with a hug, though I barely move his huge frame.

"Happy birthday," I squeal, squeezing my arms around his torso.

"You're here too? You said you were at Maya's," he exclaims, pleasantly surprised. "You look amazing."

"She helped me organise this whole thing. Actually she did most of the work," Clay explains. Grovelling detected. He shoots Ryan a thumbs up and the music starts up again.

"True," I confirm with a satisfied smile. I take a step back to watch Noah, whose expression is still complete shock. He's not used to things like this, so more than likely he'll struggle to accept it for a while.

"What the fuck? Thank you guys," Noah says quietly, eyes shining. "I didn't expect this at all."

"You deserve it, dude," Clay tells him, beaming.

"Yeah. Now go have fun. It's your night," I say, punching his shoulder lightly.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asks me, features suddenly growing concerned.

I wave my hand dismissively, though I appreciate him considering me. "Don't worry about me. You enjoy yourself."

Clay claps a hand on Noah's shoulder and pulls him towards their friends, leaving me grinning at the sight of my brother happy. Over the last three years we'd gotten extremely close to the point where we almost acted like twins. Dad leaving hit both of us hard, as well as our mom, and as a result we each discovered a newfound appreciation for one another. That's why seeing Noah like this, smiling wide, eyes glimmering, hopefully feeling cherished, is a better feeling than my own happiness.

With the party back in full swing, I have nothing better to do than do laps around Clay's house and ensure that no one's up to anything too illegal. No one's broken anything expensive yet, which is a good sign.

I accidentally barge into one of the bathrooms to find a girl hunched over the toilet and another one with mascara running down her face. They're both too preoccupied to even notice me, but I still feel guilty nonetheless.

"Shit, my bad, sorry," tumbles out of my mouth as I back out of the bathroom and shut the door with an exhale. I'll take that as my sign not to even go near the bedrooms.

While making my way through the massive living room, which is perhaps the busiest area, I feel a light hand on my upper arm. I turn, expecting to find Noah or maybe even Clay, but instead I'm met with an unfamiliar face.

"Hey," he says, winking. He still hasn't taken his hand off me. "How are you doing tonight?"

I hesitate, then, "pretty good."

He's not exactly my type – he's too short – so he hasn't really done a good job of getting my attention.

"I'm Adam. I saw you earlier and thought you looked gorgeous," he tells me, stepping close enough to where I can smell the beer in his breath. His words slur ever so slightly and the panic in my chest slowly starts to grow. His hand brushes up and down my arm as he stares at me with an almost predatory look.

"Uh, thanks. I can't say the same for you," I say, avoiding his gaze.

He lets out a bitter laugh that makes my stomach churn. "Don't be like that. I called you hot and that's how you wanna treat me?"

"I don't need you to tell me I'm hot. I already know that," I say, but my voice is small because his hand has tightened its grip on me. I'm gazing around frantically, scanning every face in my line of sight, desperately trying to spot Noah, but my heart sinks when he's nowhere to be seen.

"What's with females acting all entitled these days, huh? Can't even compliment them without them crying harassment," he spits.

"Can you let go of me?" I say, but I'm quiet and lack any real threat. I attempt to tug my arm away from him but he keeps his hand steadily locked on me. I feel like dying right here on the floor, but I can't even do that. All I can do is hope and pray that Noah shows up, but for some reason I'm starting to doubt he will.

"Is there a problem?" A voice from behind me makes me jump. I twist my head to find Clay's chest as he stands directly behind me and immediately my body relaxes with the presence of someone who's familiar.

"Only problem is her. I'm trying to let her know she looks hot as shit and she won't even say thank you," Adam grumbles, taking another swig of his drink.

"Just back off her, dude," Clay warns with a calm sternness. Adam's hand drops back to his side but his expression is bitter. I exhale a little in relief, though my chest is still tight at the sight of him.

"Why? You her boyfriend or something?"

"Doesn't matter. Back off," Clay repeats, jaw pulled tight.

Adam stares at both of us with disdain, then shakes his head. "Whatever, man."

As soon as he disappears, I'm sighing hard.

"You okay?" Clay asks, searching my face with contempt still in his eyes. It's actually kind of... comforting. But I don't want Clay to feel like a big, strong hero who "saved" me from a dumb misogynistic asshole.

"I'm fine. I didn't need your help," I say, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling I was left with. It still feels like I'm being manhandled. I also hate how much I wish I had just walked away while I had the chance even though it was Adam's fault for being a fucking creep.

"Yeah, your face said otherwise," Clay says, an amused grin growing on his lips. "You sure you don't want a drink?"

I told myself I wasn't going to drink tonight but after that, I sort of need a shot. The only problem is I'm supposed to be driving. "I have to drive Noah home."

"Just crash here. I have four spare rooms."

"Are you sure?" I question. There's something odd about the concept of staying at my brother's best friend's house, even if Noah's with me.

Clay stares at me like I'm stupid and opens his mouth like he's about to say something sarcastic. I'm glad he's smart enough to know better because I'd chew his ear off without hesitation.

"Yes," he says instead. "Noah practically owns one of the spare rooms."

I don't doubt that. Noah stays over at Clay's almost every other night, and Clay comes over to ours pretty often too.

"Fine then," I say. "Can I just get a shot now?"

Clay flicks his head towards the kitchen and I follow him there. He pulls the vodka out of one of his cupboards as well as two shot glasses and fills them up, sliding one towards me. Without hesitation I grab it and toss it back, swallowing the liquid like it's water. Clay stares at me amused, shaking his head before he knocks back his own shot.

"Feel better?" he asks, stashing the bottle away again.

"Sure," I tell him. One shot barely does anything for me, but at least now I'm loosened up at the thought of not having to worry about getting Noah home.

"You wanna play a round of beer pong?" he suggests and my eyes flick up to his face as I _actually_ consider his offer. At this stage I don't really have anything better to do. Noah's probably having the time of his life with his friends and I don't want to take him away from that, and maybe sticking with Clay will help me avoid another Adam situation.

I nod, agreeing, and so he's grabbing beer from his fridge and leading me out to the ping pong table where there's a game going on already. The table is surrounded by people who are watching the game. As soon as they notice Clay, they're calling out his name and greeting him with adoration like he's a Hollywood actor. One guy looks like he's about to get down on one knee for him.

"How are you guys doing? Are you guys having fun?" he asks them, bumping his fist against some guy's. The group all nod their heads, assurances flooding out of their mouths which makes Clay chuckle.

"Awesome. Continue on. We're gonna play after," he explains, pointing his thumb towards me.

A voice roars out from above and heads whip up towards the second floor balcony where some dude balances on the railing. Everyone begins to whoop and cheer and call out his name, egging him on as his face fills with a wild excitement. He bellows out once more before flinging himself off and I wince as he lands in the pool, crying out triumphantly when he resurfaces.

"Ready to go?" Clay asks, chuckling as my mouth hangs open. I'm surprised at how unfazed he is by the possibility of someone getting seriously injured. Maybe I'm just an overthinker.

"Oh, yeah," I say, turning back towards the table where the other game has finished and Clay is already placing the cups in a v-shape on my side and his and filling them each about halfway with beer. A small group remains as our audience, but I'm not too concerned. I'm certain they're all too focused on Clay.

"Ladies first," he says, grinning. Oh, that's a mistake.

"It's over for you," I warn him, smiling mischievously, determination taking over. I take the ball, line up my shot... and miss. Well that's embarrassing.

"You were saying?" he quips, then tosses the ball into one of my cups almost effortlessly. Damn him. I drink.

I make a few of my shots, but Clay lands more. Each round we exchange witty remarks as we slowly become more and more tipsy. Well, I'm probably the only one that's getting tipsy considering Clay's a giant and even though he's pretty slim, boys have a stupid high tolerance.

I have one cup left and Clay has three. By now I've accepted defeat, so when he makes the final shot, I'm not disappointed nor am I surprised, I just drink.

"GG," he says, staring at me with a shit-eating smirk. The group surrounding us applaud and cry out praise for him. I have to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"I was rusty, okay? I haven't played in months," I say, though I can't help but grin too.

"Yeah, okay, excuses," he teases, striding towards me. "Wanna go dance?"

Almost subconsciously my face twists into disgust. The audacity he has to ask something like that, and the audacity he has to assume I would even consider it.

"Not in a million years, dude," I tell him. Then an all-too familiar beat rings out and maybe it's the alcohol but my body fills with an ecstasy and I can't physically stop myself from grabbing Clay's wrist and pulling him inside to the most packed area of the house, completely contradicting everything I'd just said. Everyone is screaming out the lyrics to " _Heads Will Roll_ " by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, one of the most iconic party songs of all time in my humble opinion, which is why I completely let loose and allow my surroundings to fall away as the music guides my movements.

Clay beams while I bounce and move to the upbeat rhythm of the song, grooving along too but with a little less energy than me. I hate to admit it, but the way the lights hit his face and bounce off of the sparkles on his skin make him look kind of breathtaking. Then, before I realise, someone crashes into me and a cold liquid covers my entire front.

"What the fuck?" I cry out over the music, brushing my hands over my top which is now stained with alcohol. "Watch it."

I glance up to find some guy standing there, drenched in sweat, eyes barely open, lopsided smile on his face.

"I am so sorry, that's my bad," he slurs out, stumbling sideways a little before he shoves past me and disappears somewhere else.

Apparently the universe doesn't want me to have fun because I seem to be attracting all sorts of shitty situations tonight. I open my mouth to complain, but I don't even know what to say. I end up just letting out a frustrated groan.

Clay stares at me with a guilt-ridden face for a moment before leaning into my ear. "I'll get you something to change into. Come on."

Next of all I'm following Clay's huge figure, pushing through a sea of people until we're finally out of the crowd. He leads me upstairs and down a corridor lined with guests who greet him as he walks by.

When we arrive at his bedroom he pulls out a key and unlocks the door, making my eyebrows knit together in suspicion.

"I didn't want any freaks getting in, okay?" he says, stepping aside so I can enter. After he follows me in and shuts the door, he disappears into his walk-in closet, leaving me to gaze around his room. If only there _were_ something to gaze at other than his ridiculously huge king-size bed. He really is like every other guy, showing no personality through his decor.

A few moments later Clay emerges again, handing me a grey crewneck with a random college logo on it.

"En-suite is over here," he says, pointing to a door on the far side of his room.

"Thanks," I tell him, and shut myself into the bathroom where I immediately peel off my top with a face of disgust and pull Clay's sweater over my head. I'm swimming in it. The sleeves go past my hands and it almost covers my skirt, but god is it comfy. It also smells... really good, like citrus and spices.

When I catch my reflection in the mirror above his sink, I find that my makeup is still pretty much completely intact, so I'm pretty satisfied when I leave the bathroom.

Clay glances up from his phone for a second, face splitting into a grin that makes me frown.

"Cute. I didn't realise it would be so big on you," he says, laughing lightly as I push the sleeves up my arms so that I can actually use my hands. I'm choosing to ignore the fact that he called it cute. "You can have something smaller if you want."

"No thanks," I tell him, suddenly curious as to what time it is. I unlock my phone where the time reads 1:13 a.m. and my mouth physically drops. "How the fuck is it one a.m. already? It feels like it's been an hour."

Clay gives a chuckle. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

I roll my eyes. This corny bitch.

"Come on," he says, waving me towards him. "Let's get back to the party."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm the ceo of not knowing how to end chapters, my bad lol
> 
> smut next chap ;)


	4. Thirsty

The party rages on for the next few hours. Eventually I end up in a corner just as I predicted, on my phone as the people around me get even more drunk and even more high. I witness people who are straight up fucking each others' mouths in the middle of the party and apparently people in the backyard are skinny dipping in the pool. At least nothing's on fire.

Luckily as it nears 3 a.m. and fatigue begins to settle into my muscles, the crowds start to thin and the noise starts to fizzle out as the party guests start to call Ubers and designated drivers try their absolute hardest to stop their inebriated friends from toppling over.

Pretty soon the house is clear after what felt like the longest night of my life. Now that it's empty, it looks like a hurricane hit it. Cups are scattered everywhere. The floor is sticky with alcohol. Every step you take makes a new noise depending on what potato chip or candy your foot lands on. Confetti is dotted all over the ground and walls. It's safe to say I'm not looking forward to cleaning up.

Noah is sprawled out on a random couch when I find him. He's a mixture of soaked from being thrown in the pool, and covered in cake from when Clay shoved his face into it. He lays half asleep, yet he manages to mumble out the tune of a Travis Scott song.

"Hey, big guy," I greet, flopping down next to him. Immediately he grabs my torso and attempts to pull me towards him in a hug, but I shriek out and since I'm much less drunk than him I find it easy to protest against his grip.

"Don't touch me until you've showered, weirdo," I giggle. "You have fun tonight?"

"It was one of the best nights of my life, not even gonna lie," he says slowly, words meshing together as he struggles to form a sentence.

"Yeah? I'm glad," I say, grinning.

"You're the best sister ever, you know that?" he says, voice filled with a drunk sweetness. His words are followed by a yawn.

"I do know that actually," I reply. Clay appears, rubbing his forehead as he stares at us with a small smile. "I also know that we should get you to bed."

Noah moans in objection, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a little kid. It's hard to tell he just turned twenty one. "I'm comfy here."

Clay approaches him, tucking a hand behind his back and pulling him to his feet with no effort whatsoever.

"Easy, buddy," Clay says, pausing to make sure Noah stays upright. He leans his entire bodyweight on Clay, who then slowly starts to move upstairs.

"Clay, he's gonna throw up if you don't calm down," I say, voice filled with humour. Honestly it'd be pretty funny if he threw up.

"He's not gonna throw up," he assures me.

After about ten minutes of Clay having to literally drag Noah around like a rag doll, we get to the spare room. As soon as he places Noah down on the bed, he's... fast asleep.

Clay and I both laugh as he snores away. He sleeps as though he hasn't gotten sleep in a week.

"How are we gonna clean everything up?" I ask. I would let him do it all, but to be fair it would probably be kind of shitty to take all the credit for organising it and then refusing to deal with the aftermath.

"Don't worry about it. I've got people hired to do that," he explains after we've left Noah's room. Of course he has people hired to do it. Why did I not think of that?

"Right," I say. "Can I head to bed?"

"Yeah, sure. Room's all yours," he says, leading me a few feet away to the room right next to where Noah is. "Hopefully no one, you know..."

The bed looks pretty untouched; sheets straight, no pillows strewn anywhere, so I'm assuming I have nothing to worry about. Hopefully.

"I can get you different sheets if you want," he offers.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I tell him, walking towards the bed and plopping down on the edge. It's soft yet firm – probably an expensive mattress. I better get the best night's sleep of my life.

"Do you need something else to sleep in or anything?"

"Oh my god," I exclaim. "Are you gonna offer to feed me grapes next? I'm fine. I promise."

Clay laughs, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm just making sure you're comfortable. I don't see anything wrong with that."

"You're being a simp," I tell him.

He rolls his eyes into the next dimension. "Come on now. That's not true. I may be grovelling, but I'd never simp for... you."

"Whatever you say," I start, then lower my voice to a near whisper. "Simp."

"Good night," he says, shaking his head albeit with an amused grin. "If you need anything, you know where my room is."

"Good night," I say. As soon as he shuts the door I pull my skirt down my legs and bury myself under the two layers of covers, unlocking my phone so I can mindlessly watch Tiktoks for the next two hours. At one stage I rub my heavy eyes and my hand comes away covered in glitter. Sighing, I consider whether it's worth it to get up, go all the way to the bathroom and scrub off my face. The thought is just too unappealing, so I roll onto my side and continue scrolling.

After a little while, my mouth starts to get uncomfortably dry and I'm reminded that I haven't had anything to drink other than the beer and vodka from earlier. I want to ignore the fact that my tongue is sandpaper, but eventually it becomes unbearable. I slip out of the bed and creep downstairs to the kitchen, halfway through realising I don't need to tiptoe in a mansion.

I scour each of Clay's cupboards until I find the glasses and fill it up with water from the dispenser that his refrigerator has. I gulp it down, feeling my body thank me for finally giving it something that's healthy. The glass nearly slips from my hands when I hear a voice enter the kitchen.

"You okay?" Clay asks.

"God, fuck. Chill," I curse, turning to face him. "Why would you sneak up on me, you dick? How did you even know I was down here?"

He shrugs, reaching over to take the glass from my hands gently despite me not being finished. I can't find the confidence to stop him. "I didn't. I was just thirsty."

"Whatever," I say. He chugs down what was left of my drink, eyes never once leaving me, and hands it back to me once he's done. I fill it up again, guzzling it down so quickly it dribbles down my chin. I place the glass on the counter, staring at him expectantly.

"You spilled a little," he says, pointing to the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he reaches towards me before I can wipe the water away myself. His thumb swipes up the droplets, before carefully sliding over my bottom lip.

I hate it. I hate the way it lights my skin on fire. I hate the way it makes my abdomen flutter. I hate how my entire brain is mush and how my heart hammers against my ribs. I hate how fucking good his lips look right now.

He steps back and I ache.

"Wait," I manage. His smirk. His fucking smirk. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"What?" he asks, coy. As if he doesn't know.

"I need..." but I can't bring myself to say it.

He moves closer and closer until he's an inch away from my face, warm breath fanning over my skin, causing my arms to erupt with goosebumps.

"What do you need?" he says next to my ear, low. His voice makes my entire body vibrate. My brain is screaming at me to run away, but it's fucking addicting. I find it hard to hear over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. He hovers next to my lips as if asking for permission, searching my eyes for something. When I nod ever so slightly, his mouth meets mine softly. My eyes shut as his huge hand cups my cheek. It's still not enough though. I press in a little harder, feeling him smile against my lips as he takes the hint. His tongue pushes into my mouth, hand moving to the back of my head as he kisses me with an aggression that makes my legs turn weak. Noticing this, he grabs the back of my thigh, hoisting me up his torso.

I'm kissing him like I depend on his lips for life. My morals are out the window as my mind fills with nothing but want, _need_ , everything multiplying when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth.

It takes all of my strength to pull away, but I need air. I huff for a second but then I'm against his skin again, this time dropping my head down to nip against his neck. I hear the way his breath catches in his throat and can't help the grin that takes over my face. I bite and suck at his delicate skin, leaving red marks everywhere, and soon we're moving out of the kitchen. My mouth doesn't leave his neck once as he carries me all the way to his bedroom and sets me down onto his bed.

My legs part subconsciously, giving him room to press flush against me, his warm body now making everything more intense. His hands crawl under my sweater – his sweater – and brush against my sides teasingly gentle. He peppers my jawline with kisses, moving down my neck ever so slowly in such a way that makes me let out a soft moan.

He pulls back with an eyebrow raised, chuckling at me as my face burns. For a second I think he's about to tease me, but then his expression turns serious. "Are you sure you want this?"

There's not a doubt in my mind as I nod slightly. "Mhm."

"I need to hear you say yes."

"Yes," I tell him, loud and clear. With that, he tugs at the hem of the sweater before pulling it up over my head, attaching himself to my neck as soon as it's gone. His hand reaches up to grasp one of my breasts over my bra, squeezing ever so slightly. It's enough to make me arch up against him, desperate for contact. He moves his other hand behind my back, unclasping the bra before tossing it elsewhere and immediately lowers his mouth to my chest. He kneads me, sending shivers through my entire body as I bite back a moan. When he latches onto my nipple and sucks hard, I can't help the noise I make anymore.

"Fuck, _Clay_ ," I breathe, struggling to form words.

"That's it," he tells me, smiling against me. "Be loud for me."

His mouth moves onto my other breast, mouthing at it until my nipple goes hard, while his hand travels down my side and his fingers toy with the waistband of my underwear.

"Please," I whisper, snaking a hand into his hair.

"Please what?" he asks, pulling back to stare at me.

"Touch me," I plead, but I don't sound anything commanding. He has me crumbling already and my panties are still on.

He listens though, pushing the pad of his thimb against my clothed pussy, making me whine. He smiles, proud. It's exactly what he was looking for. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, then his fingers dip into my panties and swipe against me.

"Soaked already," he says, raising his eyebrows. This can't be good for his ego. All I can reply with is a needy moan, so he obliges, sinking a finger into my entrance, making everything go tight when he starts to slowly move. My own fingers are nothing compared to his massive hands. He reaches new depths inside me, making me arch when he curls his finger up.

I'm falling apart already, sensitive to every movement he makes, small whines and pleas leaving my mouth as he fucks me with his finger. As soon as his mouth dips to connect with my clit, I clench my legs together. Clay is much stronger than me though, and uses his other hand to keep me spread as well as looking at me with warning in his eyes.

The heat in my lower abdomen burns more intensely with each expert flick of Clay's tongue on my sensitive clit. He adds a second finger, bending up and sliding in and out at such a rapid pace that makes me fist my hand into his hair and grip it until my knuckles pale. My mouth is dropped open. I've lost control over the mewls that spill out of me.

It doesn't take long before the pleasure bursts in my stomach and takes over my entire body. I shudder out a moan, mind blanking, entire body tensing, non-stop whimpers falling from my mouth as he rubs me through my orgasm.

"Such a good girl," he purrs and I shiver.

I'm numb as he leans back. His lips are swollen, glimmering with my cum as he smiles a mischievous smile. I grab at his wrist, pulling him towards me with what little strength I have. He bends forward, slotting his lips to mine so I can taste my own sweetness on his tongue.

"Please fuck me," I whine against his lips, clawing at the back of his neck.

"All that and you're still not satisfied?" He shakes his head as he chuckles, eyes becoming dark with a subtle hunger. "So needy. Should have known you'd be like this considering how you run your mouth."

I have to bite my lip to hold back the moan that threatens to slip out. His words hit me right in the core, making my pussy clench around nothing.

"Please," I repeat, even more embarrassingly desperate than before. I squeeze my legs around his waist, urging him.

He rises to his feet, leaving me exposed and suddenly feeling self-conscious. My hands move to cover my chest despite Clay not even looking at me. He moves towards his dresser, shuffling through one of the drawers.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, betrayed at the fact that he left me in the state that I am.

He turns his head to me, frowning. "Condom."

"I'm on the pill," I say matter-of-factly. "Do you have an STD?"

He pulls an almost offended expression. "No."

"Then get back here."

He wastes no time, returning with a new-found hunger as he kisses me without holding back. His tongue explores my mouth as if he can't get enough and, to be honest, _I_ can't either.

My hand travels down between his legs, tightening around his already hard cock through his sweatpants. My eyes widen at how thick it feels. He breaks away from me to groan, deep and low, encouraging me to massage him harder. My fingers crawl past the band of his sweatpants and into his boxers where I grasp his dick and stroke it, slow yet firm, while Clay's breathing grows ragged in my ear, spurring me on. I speed up little by little until I'm jerking him with haste, swears dropping from Clay's mouth like a prayer.

He sighs out, cock twitching in my hand ever so slightly, and he grabs my wrist to push it away.

"I need you," he mutters, pushing his sweats and underwear down his legs, showcasing his flushed cock. It's even bigger than it felt, and I don't know whether to panic at the thought of it being inside of me or anticipate it.

"You can tell me to stop at any time, alright?" he reminds me, voice gentle in contrast to before. I nod as one of his hands lands next to my head while he uses the other one to stroke himself. He lets go for a moment, holding his palm in front of my mouth.

"Spit for me," he says, so I do, fluttering my lashes. He pumps himself a few more times, coating his cock with my saliva before he pulls my underwear down my legs and slides his tip through my folds.

My mouth parts, a whine stuck in my throat because the wait is fucking painful.

"Clay," I breathe, tugging his hair. "Please."

"But you sound so pretty when you beg."

God, I wish I could shut the fuck up just to spite him, but right now I couldn't care less about pissing him off.

"Please fuck me. Please. _Please_ ," I mewl out, bucking my hips up in an effort to try and get closer to him. Thankfully he listens, and next of all the two of us are moaning in sync as he sinks into me slowly, almost cautiously. He watches my face the entire time like he's making sure I'm okay.

I thought his fingers felt good, but holy shit –the stretch of his dick is like no other. He's reaching every inch of me, making my mind fuzzy before he's even started moving.

"God, baby," he moans, perfect face twisted into pure bliss. "You're so fucking tight."

His pace starts off slow, allowing me a few moments to get used to his size. He rolls against me like this until I start to whine a little louder and arch my back even more. My hands grab his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin as he picks up his speed and starts to thrust into me with fervour.

"Oh, fuck," I whimper out. He grabs the back of my knee, hooking my leg around his waist, then grasps my hips tight to keep me pinned in place.

"You like that?" he asks, rhetorically I assume because the answer's pretty fucking clear.

He looks like a Greek god above me; perfect lips parted gently, eyes hooded as they stare at me with infatuation. The deep moans he lets out ever so often are akin to symphonies.

My eyes screw shut, head lolling back as lewd noises stream out of my mouth, but he won't allow that. He grabs my face with his massive hand, forcing me to gaze at him.

"Look at me. I wanna see your pretty face," he breathes, confident demeanour barely slipping as he gulps. "God, you look so fucking good taking me like this."

He _feels_ even better. I want to tell him that, but instead of words, all that comes out of my mouth is a moan. I'm pretty sure my nails have pierced the skin of his shoulders at this stage, but he doesn't seem to mind because his thumbs are digging into me where they squeeze my hips.

It's not long before heat begins to bloom in my stomach again, and I show it with the desperate, whimpering noises I'm making.

"You're close, huh? You gonna cum all over my cock like the little whore you are?" Each one of his words brings me closer and closer to the edge, and all it takes is his thumb massaging against my clit to push me over.

Everything goes tight. I cry out a high-pitched moan, whispering Clay's name over and over because it's the only word I can manage to say. I clench hard around his cock, but his pace never slows which makes the pleasure almost painful. My thighs are trembling where they're wrapped around his torso and my hands curl into the sheets.

"There's my good girl," he coos, voice faltering a little and I can tell he's close too. His thumbs rub circles into my sides, soothing me as I come down from my climax.

My hand rests on the back of his neck, scratching ever so slightly as I sigh out.

"Cum inside me," I say, eyes boring straight into his.

Clay doesn't hesitate. His thrusts start to grow uneven, almost animalistic. His breaths become sharp, ragged as he snaps his hips against me until finally he releases a strained moan from low in his throat and stills inside me, spilling his cum into me.

After a moment his head drops to the crook of my neck, lips leaving feather-light kisses there as we lay together, both spent, minds hazy with pleasure.

Clay gazes at me, dragging his thumb over my cheekbone before leaning down to press a tender kiss to my lips.

"You okay?" he asks, pulling out of me, leaving me with an empty feeling.

I nod, staring up at him with half-closed eyes and a satisfied smile on my face. Clay stands, disappearing into his bathroom for a couple seconds, then returns with a towel in his hands to clean me up. He flops down next to me and we lay there, catching our breaths, allowing our minds to catch up to reality again.

Once my brain has moved on from having only a single thought of _dick_ , the realisation of what just happened is like a slap across my face.

I just slept with my brother's best friend, who I'm supposed to despise. If Noah finds out...

He won't find out. It never happened.

I spring to my feet, immediately regretting it as my legs wobble and I almost lose balance, but I manage to stay upright. I pluck the sweater off the ground, pulling it over my head swiftly, grabbing my bra and panties too.

"I'm gonna go," I say, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"Okay," he replies, voice neutral, not giving anything away. "Good night."

"Good night," I mumble, exiting his bedroom.

As soon as I make it back to my room, I collapse on the bed and I'm out cold.


	5. The Day After

The moment I peel my eyes open, pain sets into my entire body. It's not excruciating, but it's the type of pain that makes life just a little bit more difficult.

A subtle rhythm drums against my temples, making me wince. The muscles in my limbs burn ever so slightly as I yawn and try to stretch. My abdomen aches with a light tension and suddenly the entire night comes flooding back to me. Most of all...

Clay.

As soon as I'm reminded of him, my stomach _drops_. My hands fly to my hair, pulling at the roots because I'm _such a fucking idiot_. I was practically sober when it happened so I can't even blame it on alcohol. How horny must I have been to hook up with him of all people?

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't maybe the best sex of my life, though. Most guys don't even make me finish. Clay made me come _twice_. No wonder his ego's so big.

With a groan, I reach for my phone on the bedside table to check the time. 1:24 p.m. That adds up considering I feel asleep after the sun had already come up. There's a text from my mom from... four hours ago.

**mom**

_Good morning! How was_   
_the party? Did you have lots_   
_of fun?_

A smile breaks out on my face. I'm so lucky she is the way she is. She trusts Noah and I because she knows she raised us well enough to do so, and she's right. I'd never even consider breaking her trust. There's not much she doesn't let us do anyway, unless it's illegal, which is reasonable.

i just woke up, so that's  
how it was lol

it was so much fun, noah's  
still asleep😳

_Good to hear! Not about_   
_Noah though... Make sure_   
_he drinks lots of water!_

will do :)

Eyes heavy, I prepare to turn over to my other side and sleep again, but then my stomach lets out a dangerously loud growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten in probably twelve hours. At the moment all I can think about is inhaling an entire platter.

I begin to devise my plan of escape. Right now, I don't know how I'll be able to look Clay in the eyes, let alone be in his presence, so my only option is to escape. The plan is... Well, walk out the front door, I guess. The house is big enough where hopefully he won't hear me leave.

I slip out of the bed, throwing on my sweatpants from yesterday, grabbing my makeup wipes and heading to the bathroom so I can scrub off the makeup that's _still_ on my face. It's smudged and faded, but it's there.

The person in the mirror looks like a zombie walking. My hair sticks out in every direction and there's still mascara smudged around my eyes because I couldn't get it all off. Not to mention I'm caked with sweat. It's not a pretty sight. When I tug the collar of my sweater down a little, my entire neck and chest are purple.

"Oh my god," I gasp, feeling myself throb between my legs. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. Clay's a fucking animal. It's a good thing I don't wear anything but hoodies because I'd be way more pissed than I already am.

Afterwards I splash my face with cold water, feeling slightly more alive than before.

On my way back to my room, I stop by where Noah is, pushing the door open slowly and carefully only to find him passed out still. In the exact position we left him in. Only this time there's a blanket on top of him, a bucket next to the bed, and a water bottle and advil. That's pretty nice of Clay, I won't lie.

My stomach rumbles again, just as aggressive as before and I think maybe I should listen to it before I pass out. I head down to the kitchen, hoping, praying that Clay's anywhere else.

Obviously though, with my luck, he's in the kitchen. I could just leave and go to a drive-thru on the way home. But also I'm at the stage of hunger where I'm starting to feel dizzy, so there's no way I'll be able to drive safely.

As soon as I see him I feel lightheaded. Even more than before. He's hunched over his stove, humming along to a song I don't recognise, in his own world.

I have to force myself to remember to breathe. He's literally a _man_. Don't let him hold power over you.

Honestly though I can't help but wonder what he thinks of me after last night. For me he's still a cocky douchebag, only now I know that he has a big dick and he knows how to use it. Does he see _me_ any differently? Not that it matters, I'm just curious.

"Oh, morning," he chirps, drawing me out of my daze. "I'm cooking bacon, but there's plenty of other stuff in the fridge too. Help yourself."

I open my mouth to speak, but to my disappointment nothing comes out. I'm frozen, feet cemented to the floor. All because of some tall blond guy.

Get it together.

I clear my throat and straighten my back in an attempt to seem confident even if it's feigned.

"Bacon's fine," I say. "I'm just gonna eat and head home. Noah's probably gonna sleep the entire day."

"True," Clay says with a laugh, piling the bacon onto a plate. "He didn't even get to open his presents."

"Oh, yeah. Well, looks like his birthday's not over yet then."

I settle onto one of the stools at the island, observing his movements, more specifically his hands. I can't help the way my gaze focuses on them. How did I never notice how nice they were before? I probably didn't let myself, that's how. Now that I've literally had them inside and all over me, I indulge. My eyes trace over the light veins. His fingers, long and slender, that effortlessly alternated between feather light and bruising. Just his palm is almost the same size as my face. I remember how smooth they felt. How he knew exactly how to use them, where to put them.

Alright, that's enough. He's still Noah's best friend. I think Clay realises that too because so far he hasn't given anything away. No teasing me for what happened, no subtle remarks or anything like that. It might have to do with the fact that I practically sprinted out of his room when we were finished. It's sort of a relief that he's not acknowledging it.

I watch as he places a plate of bacon in front of me with a small smile. He sits next to me with his own plate, though making sure to give me my own space, and we eat our food in silence. Surprisingly it's... sort of comfortable. I was expecting an awkwardness, but it's quite the opposite. I guess things aren't weird unless you make them weird.

Within a few minutes, I've shovelled everything down and I'm sighing out, sated.

"Good?" Clay asks, eyeing me.

"It was okay," I say. It was actually some really good bacon, but I'd never tell him that. "I'm gonna go. Thanks for..."

Thanks for what? Railing me?

"Letting me crash, and stuff," I continue. I slide off the stool, avoiding his eyes.

"Don't worry about it. Thanks for all the help. Genuinely. None of this could have happened without you," he says, face soft.

"Anything for Noah," I say, shrugging. How ironic of me to say that.

"I'll see you around," Clay says as I leave him behind.

"Eh, hopefully not," I reply, looking back one more time to send him a sweet smile. The last thing I see is him shaking his head, amused.

Once I've grabbed my things and made sure I haven't forgotten anything, I fix the bed quickly before making my way to my car. As soon as I sit in the driver's seat my phone chimes with a message from Reggie.

**reg**

_wanna go for a drive_   
_with me n maya??_

After spending practically the last twenty four hours with Clay, I'm desperate for some interaction with someone that's not him. Even though I'll admit it wasn't entirely miserable, he's still Clay. Also I miss my friends, so I tell Reggie that I'm on my way home and that I'll be ready in about thirty minutes.

When I get home, I shower quickly, relieved I finally get to take off Clay's stupid sweater. It's been through a lot. I throw on a hoodie and some leggings instead once I'm clean and sit on my bed until Reggie texts me that he's outside.

"Hey bestie," he squeals as I climb into the backseat.

"Hey," Maya draws out.

"Hi, friends," I reply, energy instantly skyrocketing just from being in their presence. Being with them is the same as chugging two Red Bulls.

"How was the party? Spill everything," Reggie says, squirming in the passenger seat before Maya's even had the chance to drive off.

"I mean, it wasn't that eventful to be honest," I say. It's not _that_ much of a lie.

"Did you get laid?" Maya asks. It's rhetorical. She always says out of pocket things like that. They're also probably not expecting me to say yes.

"Maybe," I mutter, grinning.

"Shut up," Reggie gasps. "You're lying."

"Listen. It's been almost a year, okay?" I explain. The last time I slept with someone was my ex-boyfriend, two days before I found out he cheated on me. We'd only been together a month, and it turned out he had been talking to another girl that entire month. His dick was small anyway, so I didn't really care.

"Well, who was he? Did you get his number?" he asks.

I go tense for a second. I may have already said too much by telling them I hooked up with someone in the first place. If I tell them _who_ it was, then that solidifies the fact that it was real. And I'm still in denial. "I don't even remember his name. He was hot though."

"I didn't think you were the one night stand type," Maya says, almost looking... impressed.

"Yeah, well, like I said, its been a year. I saw the chance and I took it."

"Maybe now you won't be such a bitch," Reggie quips, smiling innocently. "Sometimes some dick is all you need."

"What the fuck, Reggie?" I say, trying my absolute hardest to look offended but it's just too hard and I burst into laughter. "Because of that, I'm gonna be even more of a bitch. Anyways, how was your date with Mason?"

Flipping between lying and telling the truth has become too exhausting, which is why I switch the conversation so that it's about Reggie. Once he starts, he doesn't stop, and for the next twenty minutes he describes every single detail of their anniversary, down to the minute everything occurred at. He may as well recite the conversations they had. I zone out for most of it, nodding along ever so often, even though at that stage he's not even talking to me, he's just _talking_.

Eventually we play a game of sticks and stones to decide who gets the aux. I win, so obviously the first thing I put on is _drivers license_. Screaming your lungs out is always a good option in my opinion, and that's exactly what the three of us do.

For the next two hours, Maya drives us around town until our throats are practically dry and our faces are covered in tears from laughing so hard. It's euphoric, the type of moment you want to stay in forever. I don't want to go home, but fatigue seeps into my bones and I'm suddenly sleepy.

"Hey, can you drop me off?" I say, words distorted by a yawn.

"Where do you think you're going?" Reggie questions, feigning offence.

"Um, home," I reply with the same tone.

"Um, why?"

"Um, because I'm tired."

He rolls his eyes. "You're always tired."

"Yeah, tired of you."

"Ooh," Maya mutters. "She kinda got you there."

"I hate both of you with a burning passion," Reggie says.

"We love you too, Reg," I reply sweetly.

Before I know it we're back at my house and I'm hopping out of Maya's car while blurting out goodbyes to my best friends. I tell them we'll do a game night soon, then Maya disappears.

When I get inside I make a beeline towards my room, itching to get into bed, but I skid to a halt when I notice Noah's door is closed. It's only ever closed when he's inside.

I tap my knuckles against the door, waiting until I hear a deep "yeah?" to enter. My brother is wrapped up in his covers like a burrito, looking half-dead.

"Hey," I say softly, pacing over to sit on the edge of his bed. "Clay drop you off?"

"Yeah," he mumbles.

"How are you doing?"

"Everything hurts," he whines.

"Yeah, well, you really went ham last night. Did you have fun at least?"

"I can literally only remember, like, parts. I do remember having the time of my fucking life though," he explains, smiling, though he looks like he's in agony while he does so. "I loved the presents too. Thank you."

I chuckle at his state. Somehow he still manages to stay positive. That's Noah for you.

"Good. You deserve it."

"You're the best sister ever," he says. I laugh again, recalling him saying those exact words to me before Clay and I put him to bed.

"I know, I know. I'll leave you alone now."

He gives a strained "bye" before I exit his room and head back to mine.

My eyes fall on Clay's crewneck that I threw onto my chair earlier and I sigh. I wanted to give it back to him. I pull my phone out of my hoodie pocket and find Clay's contact.

**clay**

i was gonna give u ur  
sweater back when u  
dropped noah off

_it's fine, you can keep it_

_looks better on you anyways_

...

i'll keep it bc it's the comfiest  
sweater i've ever worn

not bc you like it on me

_:)_

I hate him. So why does my chest flutter ever so slightly?

I toss my phone on my bed before I can let myself think any further. I'm grabbing my laptop, scrolling through Netflix frantically until I land on _Queer Eye_. Yeah. Four gay men fixing people's lives is exactly what I need right now.

...

_Hands grasp me like I'm their source of life. His tongue works between my legs, sending waves of pure bliss through my entire body, making me gasp out. Stars corner my vision. Everything is overwhelming._

_"You're doing so good for me," he whispers, fingers turning light against my trembling thighs for just a moment before they're demanding again. Emerald eyes flick up, locking onto mine. They glint with lust and I shiver as he gazes into my soul._

_I grab and pull and tug at his hair and the sheets, longing for release. Pleas and whimpers spill from my mouth, urging him on._

_My core starts to tighten and I'm growing louder. His mouth moves against me relentlessly, pushing me closer and closer, bringing my thoughts further and further from being coherent. Everything starts to go tight, and just as I'm about to tip over the edge–_

I sit up, gasping for air. Glancing down I find that I'm covered in goosebumps, while a layer of sweat sticks to me simultaneously.

It was him. It was undoubtedly him. There's no mistaking it. It's been three days since the party, so how is he still on my mind?

I wish I could go back to sleep. It's the sensible thing to do. But the reckless part of me, the stronger part of me, makes me pick up my phone from the table beside my bed and open up my messages.

**clay**

clay

He replies almost instantly.

_yes?_

i need you

_come over_

_i'll be waiting_


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha dreams get it
> 
> because his name is dream
> 
> anyways
> 
> thanks for being patient!! i know this chapter took a while but i hope the wait was worth it :)

It's a good thing that it's 2 a.m. because the streets are empty and I'm going a hundred. Getting pulled over is the last thing on my mind however because there's literally only one thing I'm thinking about. I never thought my life would reach this point, but you'd do it too for some dick.

My heart is practically vibrating in my chest as I near Clay's house and when I finally get to it I throw myself out of my car and barrel towards his front door, shooting him a text that I've arrived. I'm almost shaking as I stand there, waiting for him to let me in, but not because I'm cold. Quite the opposite, actually.

Finally there's a click of the lock and the door swings open. Clay stands there, half smirking, with his hair all tousled, probably from sleeping.

"Hello," he says, waving me inside. I'm scared as to how this will play out. "You seemed very urgent."

With a sigh I attempt to gather myself. My entire face is hot already. I figure there's no point in stalling, so I cut to the chase. "I had a dream about you."

His eyebrows raise and curiosity crosses his face. "Oh, really?"

I nod, nervous under his gaze. Suddenly I regret everything and I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have shown up in the first place. After all it was a completely rash decision that, had I stopped and thought about it for even a minute, I may have realised was fucking stupid.

"And you had to show up to my house to tell me? You couldn't have just texted me?"

He doesn't even get it. "No, Clay, it... It wasn't a normal dream."

He frowns and for a second I think he might be doing it on purpose. I wouldn't be surprised if he was. I scoff. "It was a sex dream," I mumble under my breath.

"Ah, that makes sense," he says, walking closer slowly until he's almost pressed against me. Two of his fingers land under my chin, tilting my head up so that I have no choice but to look at him. "And what happened in it?"

His presence alone makes me feel drunk. My mind is incredibly hazy, any thought replaced by him and the memories of what happened between us a few nights ago. 

I struggle to speak, too perplexed by his face that's inches from mine. His eyes wander over my features slowly, tauntingly almost, in a way that makes me want to get down on my knees. He's barely even trying.

"Well?" he asks.

I have to stop myself from visibly wincing because I know for a fact that he knows he has an effect on me. "You... you made me feel good."

"Mhm. How did I do that?" he continues, tucking some of my hair back behind my shoulder so that it's out of my face and he can look at me more clearly. The entire time his eyes are staring at me like I'm a meal, making me quiver.

"Um, with your mouth."

He hums, lips curling upwards. "I see. What else happened?" His hand starts to inch along my side, just barely brushing against me, and when he reaches my hips his thumbs draw small circles there. It knocks the breath out of me.

"That... that was it," I say.

"Hm. If that's all that made you show up then it must have been pretty earth shattering." He pulls me lightly so that I'm flush against him. His lips. I need them.

"Clay, please," I manage.

Of course his face flickers with a smug expression, but it's not even annoying anymore. It's hot, the way he's aware of his power over me. Finally he leans down, hand weaving into my hair, lips pressing against mine. He doesn't hesitate to take control immediately, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth, making my knees buckle but his arm snakes around my body and keeps me upright. Every one of my muscles is in flames, burning at how his mouth moves against mine. However I can't help but wonder what his intentions are, and a sudden wave of guilt washes over me.

I pull away from him despite his efforts to keep me in place and he stares at me with concern.

"What's wrong? You okay?"

I pause, choking on my words a little as I figure out how to ask him this. "This isn't... You're not still grovelling, are you?"

He frowns, but I don't know how my question could have been more clear. "What do you mean?"

"I just don't want you to feel like you _have_ to do this for me to get me to forgive you."

Clay sighs, smiling softly as his face fills with realisation. "This has nothing to do with that. Promise."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he says, voice stern, and I believe him.

"Okay then. Continue."

He gives a small chuckle before proceeding to lower his head to my neck where he attaches his lips to my skin. His touch makes me shiver, the mixture between gentle kisses and sucking and biting driving me crazy. His teeth scrape against me and I'm letting out a tiny moan, weak for him already.

Clay stops for a moment to slide his hands behind my thighs and hoist me up against his torso, then begins to carry me up his stairs and towards his room. My mind flashes back to the night of the party, like deja vu, because this is exactly how it went that night. My heart is pounding with nerves again just like it did, my mind cloudy with desire just like it was. 

Before I know it my back hits his bed softly and he's stuffing his hands under my hoodie, hands desperate to feel my skin. His soft hands make my entire body erupt with goosebumps as they ghost along me, moving up until they reach my breasts.

His head jerks up, eyeing me curiously as his lips curl upwards. "No bra?" 

"I-I was in bed, Clay. I don't wear a bra to bed," I explain. What, did he think I knew he was gonna fuck me or something? Asshole.

"Ah," he says, then proceeds to help me tug my hoodie up over my head. His face drops when he sees my chest, but there's also a hint of... pride, in his expression. Of course there is. My skin is _still_ covered in bruises, three days later, that have only slightly healed.

"You're such a dick," I say, amused, staring at him with narrow eyes.

"Uh, my bad," he chuckles, but there's not an ounce of apology in his tone. "To be fair," he starts, then shrugs his own sweater over his head. Ignoring the way his torso makes my breath hitch in my throat, my mouth drops at the sight of his similarly purple neck. 

"Okay, fine, I can't say anything," I admit, pouting. Now I know why he was so proud. I _did_ that.

Clay laughs before dipping his head to my chest. He rolls my nipples between his thumbs, pinching lightly until they're stiff while leaving kisses between my breasts down to my stomach. His lips are soft, just hovering over my skin, making me moan softly at the almost-contact. He kisses me until he reaches the top of my leggings, where he's pulling them down my legs carefully, eyeing me the whole time just in case I change my mind. My panties are next, and he pulls them off me in the same way, but all I give him is a pleading stare.  
  
He parts my legs carefully, spreading me out, then lowers himself between them. His mouth starts off gentle, drawing small strokes against my clit with his tongue. He circles it slowly, but I'm so sensitive already that it sends me practically spiralling. He's precise, every one of his movements so perfect that after just a few seconds there's already a tightness in my stomach, a flicker of heat manifesting there.

My gasps quickly turn to moans as he stimulates me. I grab fistfuls of his hair, arching my back towards him, squirming around uncontrollably. One of his giant hands wraps around my thigh and ensures I stay spread for him, while the other reaches up to my breast and begins to knead it, to which I respond with a drawn out mewl of his name.

His eyes stay locked on me the entire time, watching my every movement, every reaction. His expression is filled with utter pride and I don't even have to imagine what I look like because I already know I probably look absolutely desperate underneath him. I can't help it though. It's like he knows exactly how to get me weak.

I suck in a sharp breath when, just for a moment, he pulls away. I'm about to whine in protest but he shuts me up by spitting on my pussy and continuing to roll his tongue over my clit, shooting a pang of pleasure straight to my core that sends my eyes rolling into the back of my head. How is he so fucking good at this?

I can't grasp Clay's hair or the sheets tight enough. He's sucking my clit and flicking his tongue so perfectly, eating me out like his life depends on it. A breathy mix of "Clay" and "please" tumbles out of my mouth between gasps, only encouraging him.

It's almost too much. Clay's mouth on my pussy, his hand massaging my chest, one of his thumbs playing with my nipple softly, his dark eyes gazing through me the entire time. My moans are getting louder, more frequent because it's getting harder to control them. Clay notices this and begins to move his tongue without holding back. He doesn't care that I'm writhing under him, or that my legs are shaking uncontrollably. He just wants to see me gone.

"Clay, I'm-" I try to warn him, but that's all I can manage before my abdomen erupts with pleasure. My back arches off the bed and my muscles grow tight as utter bliss spreads throughout my body, leaving me frozen while Clay moves his tongue against me even through my climax.

"Oh god, Clay. Fuck. I- fuck," I stammer out. His hands turn soft, stroking against my skin, and his eyes fill with something kind as I come down from my orgasm.

Once my breathing is no longer gasping, he's up, leaning forward to connect our lips together. He kisses me slowly, ensuring I can taste myself on his mouth.

Eventually I push at Clay's chest, disconnecting us momentarily in order to manoeuvre us so that he's on his back, which is a little hard since he's so much bigger than me. His eyes narrow in curiosity, but it doesn't take long for him to figure out what I'm doing when I move back until I'm between his legs. With my bottom lip tucked between my teeth I slide his boxers down his legs, freeing his cock and taking it in my hand.

I stroke it gently a few times, teasing my thumb over his tip, watching with a grin as the confidence ever so slightly starts to leave Clay's face. I bend down, sliding my tongue up the length of his dick before wrapping my lips around him. He reaches behind, gathering all of my hair in one hand, but never turning forceful.

I take as much of him as I possibly can which, well, isn't that much before I'm struggling to breathe. What I can't fit in my mouth I take care of with my hands, pumping him while also dragging my mouth up and down his cock.

I take my time with it, working Clay just to tease, and flick my eyes up to stare at him as I go. He's gazing at me with a mixture of bliss and adoration, struggling to keep up his usually dominant act. He throws his head back and lets out a small relieved moan, hand growing just a little tighter in my hair, but still he lets me keep my own pace.

I let my spit dribble down as I bob my head on him, and catch it in my hands to keep him slick. Watching him grow disheveled, knowing that _I've_ put him in that state has me letting out my own moan around his dick that I _know_ he feels. He hisses, tugging at my hair.

"Come here," he says quietly, and I let him pull me off his cock. "On your hands and knees."

I oblige, and have to hold back a squeal of excitement as I crawl onto all fours and prepare myself for him. He prods at my entrance, sliding his cock along my pussy before he pushes in teasingly slow and we moan out in sync. 

"Fuck, I missed your tight little pussy," he mutters and all I can reply with is a whine. I forgot how good his cock felt, stretching me out, filling every inch of me up, but now I understand why I dreamt of him.

His hands grasp my hips as he rocks against me relatively slowly, just dragging his cock in and out of me. It feels good, and there's a heat forming in my stomach again, but I need more.

"Clay, harder," I beg, moving my hips backwards to meet his. My back arches even more, his cock hitting a different angle now. He listens immediately, and soon he's ramming into me as if he's been waiting his entire life for this. There's a slap with each time our skin meets and his hands on my hips become more harsh to where he'll probably leave bruises, and I can't help that my moans become uncontrollable. The noises that spill out of me are pornographic, made up of _fuck_ and _Clay_ as well as pure whimpers.

Soon he's pounding into me so hard he pushes me forward until my face meets the mattress. His hips are merciless. He's drilling his cock into me so hard and fast I can't even think. My mouth lets out a constant stream of high pitched whines that I know drives him absolutely feral because his hips start to stutter.

"God, you take me so well. You feel so fucking good around me, baby," he breathes, snapping his hips with each word that I can barely even hear because I'm too focused on the way he's fucking me. "Such a good girl. Such a perfect pussy."

He reaches between my legs, one of his fingers landing on my clit, and begins to rub rapid circles there. I squirm in an attempt to get away from the overwhelming amount of stimulation happening at once, but Clay uses his one hand to keep me in place and becomes even more relentless in his movements.

All of a sudden he has a hand on my neck and he's pulling me up, grabbing my chin and twisting my head so that he can smash his lips against mine as he pummels me from behind. My moans are muffled against his mouth as he tongue fucks me and at this stage I don't care what he does with me anymore.

There's an emptiness when he pulls out of me with no warning and flips me onto my back. I'm clenching on nothing, whimpering in protest, then a second later he's plunging back into me and resumes his punishing pace. This time I can see his face and the way he's fucked out. His cheeks are pink, lips swollen, the muscles in his neck tight as he chases his pleasure. His hands are all over me, gripping, pressing, rubbing.

His dick hits the perfect spot that makes me see stars for a second. It sends shivers all over my skin, so I tell him that. "Clay, right there. Oh god," I whimper, curling my hands into the sheets as if it'll help. The knot in my stomach grows more loose with each slam of his hips against mine.

"You gonna come on my cock like the good girl you are?" he asks, finishing his question with a hard _thrust_. "Come on. Come for me."

He speeds up, if that's possible, and I'm painfully close to the edge. All it takes is a few more thrusts and my whole body is pulsing, eyes rolling into the back of my head as I let out a scream. I'm sobbing out his name, clenching down _hard_ to keep him inside me. I'm gasping, trembling with so much pleasure that it's almost overwhelming.

Seconds later Clay follows. He releases a deep, guttural moan, thrusting his cock as deep as he possibly can inside me, throbbing as he pumps me full of his hot seed. He glances down, observing the mess he made with a smirk, then leans forward and brushes his lips over mine ever so softly, kissing me for just a second, but it's a second of pure tenderness.

He pulls out after a few moments, leaving me breathless and missing him already as I lay there, my body still twitching ever so often.

Clay pushes off the bed, tugging his boxers up his legs and dips into his bathroom before he comes back with a towel and wipes me clean with a gentle hand. 

"You okay?" he asks, exactly like he did the first time we fucked. It's sweet. Sort of simp behaviour, but sweet nevertheless.

"Yeah," I sigh. 

"Was I as good as I was in your dream?" he questions and I can't help but laugh.

"Sure," I say with a roll of my eyes because of course that's all he's thinking about.

A loud meow from the other side of his door interrupts us. Clay lets out a chuckle before he's wandering over to his door and opening it to reveal Patches waiting there patiently.

"Hi, pretty," he greets her in a high-pitched voice, swooping her up into his arms and cooing at her softly. She looks hilariously small in his arms despite being a fully grown cat. "So needy, aren't you?"

My heart is full and I'm smiling, but I don't think it's at Patches. That's when my mind tells me _run_ and I'm on my feet, struggling to stand a little, but I'm pulling my clothes back on, trying not to seem too eager to leave.

"I better go," I say, smiling appreciatively to hide the fact that I'm kind of sort of panicking. The flicker of disappointment in Clay's face doesn't go unnoticed.

"You sure? You're welcome to stay in one of the rooms again if you need."

"It's fine," I tell him. "I don't want anyone to find me not in my room, you know?"

"Yeah," he says, nodding, giving a smile.

"Bye, Clay. Bye, Patches," I add, grinning at the cat who's in another world with the scratches she's getting under her chin.

With that I'm exiting his house, driving home with a satisfied feeling, ignoring how fast my heart is beating. When I get home, I manage to sneak back inside and make it to my bed without making a single noise. No one could possibly know I even left.

That night is what starts _everything_. Because a few days later I get a text from Clay at 3 a.m. that says " _come over_ " and almost as soon as I arrive he's kissing me until I can't feel my lips and then I'm in his bed again, crying out his name. The same thing happens again... and again... and again. It's not always in the middle of the night, though. Sometimes I'll text him, sometimes he'll text me, until eventually we have this unspoken thing between us.

It's just sex though. What else would it be? I'm his best friend's sister. He's my brother's best friend. It's just for the sake of some pleasure. It doesn't mean anything.

But still, if Noah found out, I don't know what I'd do.


	7. A Little Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a playlist for this story! https://itsamxuse.tumblr.com/post/644322612671070208/brothers-best-friend-a-playlist
> 
> some more smut for u little sluts, also some clay lore at the end

**clay**

_i'm picking you up_

_that okay?_

?? sure

I frown at the severity of Clay's text. He's never this demanding, and he never offers to pick me up unless I insist I can't drive, usually because I'm too lazy, so it must be important. To be honest though my confusion dissipates when I remember what seeing him means and without hesitation I spring up so I can get ready. By that I mean I change out of my pajamas and into something that's at least a little more presentable, then spray some body mist on myself to make it seem like I put in some effort. After that all that's left to do is wait.

I jump when my phone dings with a notification and knit my eyebrows together with uncertainty. Barely half a minute has passed, so I can only assume Clay was almost at my house when he texted me. Then I check my screen and it all makes sense. It's not even him.

**maya**

_netflix marathon at mine?? reggie's already here_

I surprise myself with how quickly my mind thinks of a reply.

can't, sorry :(

_why tho_

i'm literally exhausted

gonna go to sleep soon anyways

_i rarely get time off work anymore :/ n i just wanna take advantage of when i do_

_pls_

i'm just not in the mood, i'm sorry

I mute her before she can reply and fall back onto my bed, sighing as I mull over what I just did. Did I really choose a dick appointment over my own friends? To be fair they're the ones that have been telling me I so desperately deserve to get railed and now I am, but also... they're my best friends and I definitely could have found a better way to go about it.

Should I bail on Clay? He seemed urgent though, and if I show up at Maya's after the way I just refused her it might be awkward.

I'm starting to overthink things. I grab my phone again, flicking through my apps and clicking on the first game I see which happens to be Crossy Road. There's no better distraction than trying to get a penguin across a road without killing it, in my humble opinion.

I don't even realise how long I've been playing and how immersed I've become until a message notification pops up from Clay saying he's waiting for me a block away.

It's only ten p.m., so I poke my head into the living room where my mom is sat, curled up with a blanket around her with _Parks and Recreation_ on the TV.

"I'm heading to Maya's, only for a little bit though, I'll be back in a few," I tell her.

"Okay, have fun," she chirps, but she doesn't move her eyes off the screen.

I scurry out the front door and down the street until I end up at Clay's car, and almost immediately he starts the engine, driving off.

"Why was your text so cryptic?" I ask. I don't ignore the way his jaw is pulled tight, and the fact that his eyes are filled with something dark as they stay fixed firmly on the road ahead. "Clay? You good?"

"My parents came home," he tells me, low. His knuckles are pale from how hard his hands are tightened around the steering wheel. I frown, unsure as to what he's trying to say. "We got in a fight, and I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have called Noah, or like, literally any of your twenty other friends, maybe?" I quip, raising my eyebrows, unable to put together how I seem to be his first option in this situation.

"I needed somewhere to get my anger out," he explains, and that's all he has to say for it to make sense. "And what better way than..."

I cut him off. "Than using me as a hole. Right. I get it now."

"Just say no and I'll turn right back around," he says, practically slowing to a halt.

"Use me all you want," I tell him plainly, with as much confidence in my voice as I can muster. The area between my legs starts to pulse and I have to clench my thighs together at the thought of him absolutely wrecking me.

He just nods, allowing the car to fill with a tense silence as he speeds along the roads. There's an electricity in the air, knowing what I'm in for. Within a few minutes we've reached an empty parking lot that's mostly swallowed by darkness besides the two weak streetlights on opposite ends of the empty space. He parks, turning to me with a hungry gaze that sends chills down my back.

"I'll be rough. Are you sure you're okay with that?" he asks me. I'm not scared, just a little intimidated by his calm rage. There's wetness pooling between my thighs already. He hasn't even touched me.

"Yeah," I say, voice smaller than I expect. I clear my throat. "Yes."

"You stop me whenever, alright?"

I nod my head. "I will."

"Get in the back," he tells me, voice deep, yet there's a tiny tinge of softness to it. I do as he says, crawling through the space between the driver and passenger seat, legs shaking with anticipation as Clay steps out of the car and makes his way to the back.

As soon as he sits and closes the car door, he wastes no time before he pulls me into his lap with ease. One of his hands tightens around my waist, the other settling at the base of my neck as he uses it to draw my face to his. His lips are harsh against mine, knocking the breath out of my lungs as soon as he kisses me.

Within seconds he's got me in a puddle. His touch is so controlled, so commanding it melts my brain until all I'm capable of doing is letting out a small moan against his mouth. Then he moves my hips, dragging me forward just a little where I'm sitting on his crotch and I gasp at the feeling of his cock even despite all the layers of clothes that are still between us. He takes advantage of my open mouth immediately, pressing his tongue inside and exploring every inch of it with a dominating force.

His hold on my hips is hard, practically pinching as he grinds me in his lap and I feel him growing slowly against me. His lips are ruthless as he kisses me and the hand that's wrapped around my neck snakes around behind me until he's grabbing me by my hair and jerking my head back. I'm gasping as soon as he pulls away and he just glares at me with a rage in his eyes that leaves me shuddering. His mouth curls into a devilish grin that makes my stomach flutter, then his hand moves from my hip to my leg. He creeps it higher up my thigh, ensuring our eyes stay locked the entire time, and when it's finally between my legs I sigh. He cups me gently before his fingers press a little harder, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

"Please," falls from my mouth, a whispered beg. His eyebrows raise and he chuckles and for a moment I'm embarrassed with how needy I am, but it disappears once he's pulling my leggings down my legs hastily and his hand finds its way into my panties, fingers landing on my heat, swiping them along my entrance.

"So wet already," he says, voice raspy. Frankly I was already soaked before he even touched me, but he's cocky enough without knowing that.

He pushes a finger inside me, a satisfied expression on his face as he watches me moan. My hands land on his shoulders as he pumps it in and out of me at a taunting pace, my legs quickly going numb. He does that a few times, just moving in and out of me, and once he's happy he decides to insert a second finger.

"Clay," I sigh, clenching around his fingers as they slide in and out of me. He curls them upwards and my grip on his shoulders turns rough as he starts to speed up, working me faster and faster. He knows exactly how to twist them and how to move them so that they reach the deepest part of me and hit the perfect spot and I can't help the moans that stream out of my mouth.

"My fingers feel good?" he asks even though he already knows the fucking answer. Still, I'm nodding, managing to tell him "yes", though it comes out shaky.

"Such a slut for my fingers," he continues and I can't stop the way my hips move, riding his fingers as they slam in and out of me rapidly. There's heat already pooling in my abdomen and all I want is to release it. Clay's face is filled with a steady concentration, lip caught between his teeth as he alters his gaze between my face and my pussy.

He crooks his fingers a certain way, reaching such an intense speed that the knot in my stomach is unraveling, my orgasm hitting me before I can even process it.

"Clay, I-" I cry out but my words morph into a moan. My eyes roll into the back of my head as white hot pleasure shoots throughout my whole body and my muscles are tense and my limbs are quivering.

Clay removes his fingers, grabbing me by my jaw with his other hand and forcing me to look at him.

"Open," he says, and I drop my mouth open. He takes the fingers that are covered in my juices and presses them to my tongue. I close my lips around them, sucking his digits, tasting myself on them as he pushes them further and further until they hit the back of my throat and I'm moaning around them.

"Good girl," he says, a little breathless. Once he's satisfied, he draws his fingers out of my mouth, barely letting me breathe before he's shifting me so that I'm facing forward, still in his lap. He raises me just a little so he can shove his sweatpants down along with his boxers and free his hardened cock and somewhere along the way he pulls my panties down my legs all the way, exposing my pussy to the cool air.

Clay reaches between my legs and I jump when he slides his cock along my sensitive cunt. I whine, squirming at the burn of overstimulation as he coats his dick with my wetness, dragging it through my folds.

"Fuck, Clay, please," I whine, rocking my hips against him.

He chuckles in my ear. "Patience," he coos, continuing to tease my entrance with the tip painfully slow. My frustration comes out as desperate moans, but I'm too weak to fight against the grip he has on me and slide it in myself.

"God, if I'd known how whiny you'd be I would have just stayed home and used my hand," he growls, only prompting me to make another high pitched noise. He hums, then a moment later he finally sinks into me, burying himself to the hilt straight away. He gives me a second to adjust before his hips start to move, immediately finding a rapid rhythm as though he's impatient.

His hips have absolutely no mercy, all of his anger pouring out of him in the form of hard. Deep. Strokes. My back is pressed to his chest and I throw my head back onto his shoulder, arching because he's fucking me so fast and I'm already pretty spent from my first orgasm. The hand that grasps my waist guides me up and down, making my hips meet his every thrust, while his other hand snakes up to the front of my neck and holds it with a firm yet light grip, just enough to keep control over me.

"You take me so fucking good," he mutters, planting a kiss on my neck. He reaches down until his fingers land on my clit and I gasp as he starts to circle it, adding on to the way he's pounding me. Each lewd noise I make only encourages him and he rams into me faster, harder, slamming me down onto his cock with more force every second. The stretch is phenomenal– he reaches every part of me, touching a new depth with each stroke.

Clay's breath is laboured in my ears and ever so often he'll let out a soft groan which doesn't help the heat building in the pit of my stomach. Each touch, each movement makes it grow bigger and bigger, drawing me closer and closer to the edge. He shifts his body slightly beneath me and the angle he's hitting is just perfect.

"Right there, oh god," I whimper, barely audible as my sentence is broken by moans that spur him on.

"Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock?" he asks and I don't have to see him to know he's got a smug grin on his face.

His words are enough. Everything goes tight and I'm letting out a yelp, shivering as my muscles go numb with bliss once again, skin prickling with intense pleasure. Clay's hips never falter however. He continues to ram his cock into my spent hole despite how sensitive I am and despite the fact that my entire body is still trembling.

"Clay-" I gulp, with barely enough strength to even lift my head off his shoulder. It's more comfy there anyways, and I need all the comfort I can get with the way Clay is fucking me. I tilt my head a little towards his neck and bury my face there, searching for some sort of relief from the overwhelming sensation. I gasp when he tugs me by my hair, angling my face so that it's right next to his, and slots his lips against mine in a hard, wet kiss, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I mewl against his lips, my way of telling him it feels good. All I can do is take it until eventually he pulls away.

My vision starts to blur with tears as Clay pummels into me, never once slowing his punishing pace. I'm biting my bottom lip so hard I think it might bleed soon. Everything hurts with sensitivity and overstimulation, but it's a good kind of pain, one that, for some god-forsaken reason, I want more of.

At this stage the only noise I'm able to make is light whimpers and whispered pleas in between pants. I'm far past the point of being able to think straight, my brain only focused on Clay's cock where it slams in and out of me. He reaches underneath my crewneck that he never bothered to take off, his hand finding my breast to grab hold of and massage, amplifying the pleasure building inside me.

Before long I'm hurtling towards my third orgasm, high-pitched, needy moans dripping from my mouth as everything turns warm and I'm squirming around in his lap.

I clench around Clay's dick and his breath catches in his throat. His thrusts, while still brutally quick, begin to turn into something less controlled. His breath starts to turn ragged, his grunts more frequent as his cock starts to throb inside me. Both of his hands grab my hips, keeping me still so he can fuck into me to get where he needs to be and soon he's twitching inside of me, releasing a deep, guttural moan, cock stilling as he releases his load into me, pushing as deep as he can possibly go.

"Oh, fuck," he groans under his breath, panting, breath shaky as he fills me up, giving a few more thrusts as he comes down from his climax.

I start to relax, letting my limbs go slack because finally I think he's satisfied, having released some of his frustrations. But as soon as he pulls out of me, he replaces his cock with two of his fingers again and I'm whining in protest.

"Clay, I can't-" I try to say, but I'm cut off by a moan as he stuffs his fingers knuckle-deep inside of me and curls them upwards, pushing them in and out of me at a furious pace.

"One more time for me, baby," he whispers sweetly, a contrast to the way his fingers are moving. I wrap a hand around the wrist that's between my legs, clinging onto it for dear life, nails digging into his skin while he works me. Each thrust produces a squelching noise that quickly has me losing touch with reality. My brain is already pure liquid, so by now all I can register is the fact that my veins are on fire with stimulation.

I'm writhing around, thighs tense with my orgasms and my lungs begging for air. My throat is dry and it burns when my moans come out raspy, but it's impossible not to make noise when Clay makes me feel so impossibly good.

"Please," I whimper, voice cracking, but I don't even know what I'm begging for. I clench my pussy subconsciously around Clay's fingers in an attempt to bring myself closer to my climax and he speeds up even more, if that's possible. Soon enough I'm letting out a screech as a wave of pleasure washes over me for the fourth time. Everything pulls tight, my hand squeezing Clay's wrist as he slows his fingers but keeps them moving fast enough to get me through my high. My head is back on his shoulder because it feels like it weighs about a tonne.

Soon he drags his fingers out of me, leaving me empty, and brings his hand to my lips again. I part them, taking his digits that are covered in him and I mixed together and sucking them like they're candy. They taste like it too.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, voice so soothing I could fall asleep then and there.

We sit there for a few minutes in silence, regaining our senses slowly but surely. My eyelids are heavy, muscles aching as though I've just run twenty miles. My mind is cloudy, still unable to form a thought other than how fogged up the windows have become- they're almost completely opaque. I'm suddenly aware of the layer of sweat that clings to my skin.

Eventually I've gotten enough strength back to pull my leggings back up my legs. I slide out of Clay's lap and into the seat next to him so he can tug his own pants back up. My eyes widen as I move- my legs are jello, and I have no doubt in my mind that I won't have the ability to walk tomorrow.

I throw my legs over his lap and he cocks an eyebrow, but once he sees me reclining his face turns mellow like he understands.

"Was that okay? It wasn't too much, was it?" he asks, combing a hand through his wavy hair that's fallen out of place, ruffling it a little as he fixes it. There it is again. That question. He's probably just being a decent human when he asks, but for some reason it makes my heart skip.

"No, it was... it was really good," I assure him, chuckling, my face heating up as I think back to the ruined state he had me in literally a minute ago. "Did you... get any anger out? At all?"

Clay's expression turns sour, as if reality slaps him across the face once again and he's reminded of his problem. "It definitely helped."

"But only a little, right?" I pry. His eyes become distant, the playful atmosphere in the car now replaced with something more serious. "Talk to me about it. You said you got in a fight with your parents?"

He looks at me now, swallowing, expression troubled and heavy with contemplation. Then he nods. "Yeah," he tells me, voice cracking. He pauses again to sigh. It's heavy, and lasts a long moment, like he's trying to exhale his frustration. "It's like all they know how to do is criticise me."

I nod, giving him time to turn over the words in his head.

"All my life they put so much pressure on me to be perfect, to be something unachievable. Even when I was little, they'd compare me to other kids who were more talented than I was, or smarter than I was. They refused to come to my graduation because I didn't get a 4.0, and when I told them I wanted to major in English they looked at me like I had just confessed a murder. Honestly they would have had a better reaction if I _had_ confessed to a murder," he explains, voice heavy like I've never heard. The humour that's always in his tone is missing. It's... weird. Unnatural.

"Why?" I ask, though I wonder if maybe I shouldn't have.

"I was supposed to go to Harvard, study business, and take over their firm, so finding out that I didn't want that was pretty much the equivalent of the end of the world for them. To make it worse, I wanted to do liberal arts, and so they've always sort of resented me for it. The reason we got into a fight was because they found out I threw the party, which is bullshit because everything is in perfect shape anyway. I paid for the entire thing, as well as a cleaning company, all out of my own pocket, so I don't know why it even matters so much to them. Obviously then it spiralled and it ended up being about how I'm a terrible, irresponsible person who barely graduated high school and has no goals in life or whatever. That's how it ends every time," he says, glaring forward.

"That sucks. I'm really sorry, Clay," I offer, feeling much less than helpful.

He gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, staring at his hands where they're in his lap. "I just... I don't know," he says. The hopelessness in his words hits me in the heart, which comes as a surprise to me. Not that I'd want to see him in pain– I'm not evil. It's the fact that I feel genuinely sorry for him. Then again, no one deserves parents like that.

For a second it starts to make sense, why he was so nasty to me when we were younger. Not that there's any excuse for giving someone self-esteem issues, but he probably just didn't know any better because his parents only ever taught him how to be critical. It genuinely gets me thinking.

Our conversation is interrupted by the shrill sound of my phone ringing and I can't help the scoff I produce. When I glance at it, the screen show's Reggie's name. For a moment I consider answering, but once I remember that he's most likely going to chastise me for not hanging out with him and Maya, I decline, frowning.

"My friends are being annoying," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Are you sure you don't wanna call back?" Clay asks.

"I'll deal with them later. Anyways, have you thought about, like, moving out maybe?" I suggest. "I mean, you have a good job, right?"

His face morphs into serious thought. "I've thought about it a couple times, but... I've never really seen the point, I guess."

"Well, now you have a reason," I say, nudging his ribs.

He bites the inside of his cheek, staring ahead, the gears in his head visibly turning. If I were him I would have moved out as soon as I could, though I guess it's not really that simple. Having the money is one thing, but having the skills to live alone is another, so I don't really blame him. After a while Clay snaps out of it, shaking his head.

"Um, let's get you home," he says, smiling a little, face filled with resolve, but his voice says otherwise.

He ends up staying over in Noah's room that night so that he doesn't have to deal with his parents. I can't lie and say our conversation doesn't keep me awake a little later than usual, not to mention the fact that he's a few rooms away. Something about the fact that he felt like he could confide in me is... quite nice.

My mind flashes with the things he used to say to me. He'd tell me how much smarter he was than me. How much better at sports he was than me. How much better at singing he was than me. I don't even remember if they were true or not, but it doesn't even matter. He'd tell me these things because it was what his parents would say to him and he wanted to feel better about himself. It still hurts, after all they were still cruel things to say to a little girl, not made better by the fact that my brother encouraged it, but at least now I understand why.


End file.
